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You hurry through the darkened streets. The meeting regarding the orphanage’s funding has dragged on far longer than you had expected it to. So you were in no way dressed to ward the night’s chill, all you had was the measly shawl you had decided to wear because it complimented your clothes.
It came as no surprise that the nightly chill had firmly settled in your very being.
The first thing you would do when you got back to the orphanage would probably be to sit next to the fireplace in the kitchen. It should still hold some warmth from dinner. Who knows there might even be some leftovers for you to have.
Probably not, but one could always hope.
You pause beneath one of the dimly lit lamps. Looking into the alley beside you, you weigh your options.
You could take a shortcut through this alleyway. It would significantly shorten your way home and get you warm quicker. But the alley was virtually plunged into darkness. The only source of light a dim little lantern above the entrance of one home roughly in the middle of the vennel.
Or you could keep walking the better lit road. Though that didn’t mean much, you were after all in the poorer part of Mond and here the lights ran on the smallest fire they could. So realistically speaking the main road was only a little better lit than the alley. And frankly the low light made it look more eery than complete darkness thanks to the long shadows it cast. Plus this way would take about twice as long as the alleyway would.
Rubbing your numbing hands together to get some feeling back into them the decision is a given.
You turn to walk down the alley, tugging the flimsy shawl tighter around you to preserve at least a little body heat.
The alley is rather cluttered. Random boxes forcing you to press into the far wall to pass them when you couldn’t step over them. Thanks to the little light you were at least able to somewhat make out their shapes. This allowed you to dodge most of them but you still bumped into some crates. Rattling their contents and making quite the ruckus.
You hope you didn’t wake the inhabitants. People tended to be less than agreeable when freshly roused from a deep slumber.
Cringing as you bump into another crate you pause, one hand on the box you listen for any annoyed grumbles or the sort.
You can’t hear any thankfully. But you’ll have to be more careful from here on out or you might really wake someone.
Holding your hands out to feel for any oncoming obstacles you slowly continue walking, taking small steps to avoid accidentally kicking something. You’re making slow progress but it’s progress nonetheless.
The sound of a footfall echoes, but it is not yours. Frozen midair trying to find an empty spot to step on. You go rigid. Should you turn around?
Whoever is in the alley with you matched their footsteps with yours to remain undetected. No one with good intentions would do that…
You continue walking, pretending like you aren’t hyper-aware of the footsteps following you. Maybe you can loose whoever this is if you make a break for it. You know the area around here and it’s many winding alleys quite well. There is a good chance you could slip into one of the better hidden ones and elude your pursuer.
Or you could run into a patrol unit of the Favonious Brigade.
Unlikely, since they tend to avoid this part of town. Which in itself is a paradox, since this part of town is arguably the one most in need of protection.
Yeah, making a break for it seems like the more sensible plan of action. Since you didn’t trust your luck with running into the Favonious Brigade.
All you have to do is clear this wall of boxes and then you should be able to make a break for it.
But you don’t get that far.
A tight grip on the back of your high collar yanks you back.
You’re slammed against a wall, the impact knocking the wind from your lungs. Gasping for air you don’t have time to start screaming before a rough, cold hand clamps over your mouth and nose. Panic settles deep into the pit of your stomach and you start struggling.
Pushing against the man that’s holding you down your cold hands meet even colder skin. You struggle even harder, thrashing against the man who had now pinned both of your hands above your head. Muffled screams steal even more of your already scarce breath.
It would appear you should have listened to law enforcement when they warned against leaving the house at night due to unusually high vampiric activity. How does the saying go, hindsight is easier than foresight.
You start thrashing with your full weight against the black haired vampire. However brief your struggle may have been it seems you managed to annoy him.
Which does not bode well for you because not only does he pin your entire body to the wall with his weight but also roughly shoves your head to the side. He does it in such a manner that your head bounces once, blood flowing from your temple and sight going blurry.
You feel, more than see, a hand tearing at the collar of your blouse until the buttons give under the strain and scatter on the ground. The cold night air makes goosebumps appear on the now exposed skin of your neck and shoulder.
You can feel the vampire’s icy breath fan against your clavicle.
Then suddenly his weight is gone. Without the only thing keeping you from crashing to the ground you crumble onto your knees. Panicked little gasps struggling to fill your lungs.
Distantly you’re aware of the sounds of a scuffle but you’re preoccupied with getting your breathing under control again.
Several excruciatingly deep breaths later you finally succeed.
Holding your ruined blouse closed with one hand you struggle to your feet. As the last sounds of the scuffle fade into the night your eyes catch onto gleaming red strands. Illuminated by the moon peaking through the cloud cover.
“Diluc?”
The figure turns around and in a flash you’re caged in between a pair of arms, again. Oddly enough you feel safe.
Even when your eyes find his and all you see are red irises drowning in a pool of onyx, the telltale sign of a starved vampire. Pupils blown wide when they pass your neck and pinprick small as they settle on your face. Even then you still feel safe.
The arms beside your head shift and Diluc leans his head towards your, still bleeding, temple.
You go still in anticipation.
But it never comes.
Instead he jerks away and rests his forehead on your chest, where your erratic breath makes it raise and fall. He’s breathing hard, perhaps even more so than you, and his arms tremble where they still cage you in.
“It’s alright Diluc.” You try to soothe him, carding one of your hands through his tangled locks. Reining in your breathing so his head wouldn’t bounce as much.
“No, it’s not.” He struggles to speak, voice chocked up with some type of emotion. He looks up at you, tears collecting on his lower lash line. The sight of it makes you worry, never had you seen your friend in such a state before.
It seems like he wants to say something more but all that comes out is a pitiful keen and a few pained growls.
“It really is.” Never had you expected to have to deal with this side of your vampiric friend. “You’re hungry.” Or thirsty in this case, but that’s just technicalities. “I don’t mind, you know that.” It’s not the first time you offered your own blood to him or his brother, though you had always been turned down.
In what you guess is a lapse of his self-control he presses you flush against him. One arm on the small of your back and the other between your shoulder blades.
His head slides upward with the motion. Now resting on your clavicle where he inhales deeply and keens again.
He presses even more into you. Strangely enough he’s fairly warm, warmer than you anyway.
“If it is my permission you need, I give it to you freely.” With the hand that’s currently not petting Diluc’s hair you slide your already ruined blouse off your shoulder.
Exposing your shoulder and collarbone to the cold once more. “The other guy did most of the work for you.” You attempt a joke.
Diluc’s hold on you pulses. Tightening and slackening as if he wanted to let you go but couldn’t.
You continue to stroke his hair as you feel his lips on your skin, parted and fanning warm breath on your exposed flesh. Whispering soft encouragements as your hand cards his hair.
Feeling his tongue press on your skin you try to relax as much as you can letting your head fall to one side.
You wait as he searches for your pulse point.
He finds it and presses his tongue against it, feeling the skin rise and drop in rhythm with the beating of your heart.
For a moment he stays perfectly still there.
Then you feel his lips on your skin once more, placing a tender kiss where his tongue was before.
His lips part and you feel the scrape of fangs for but a moment, before they pierce your flesh in a shallow bite.
It burns.
Pain shoots like fire up into your spine and your movements cease. One hand tangled in Diluc’s tresses and the other one now tightly curled into his coat. You screw your mouth shut trying your damndest to muffle your discomfort.
It burns.
When he first begins to suck. Your blood no doubt pooling in his mouth. Drawn from you with sharp fangs and gentle tongue. At least you think it is. Your grip on his coat tightens.
It burns.
When the first gulp of blood goes down his throat you can feel the bop of his Addams-apple on your skin. You feel him shudder and then pull you flush against his body. He presses tightly against the small of your back leaving no space between the two bodies. Fangs slip deeper into your flesh with the movement.
He’s warm.
So incredibly warm against your chilled body. You suppose it’s a side effect of his pyro vision. It keeps his temperature high and himself clear of any suspicion.
You don’t know what you would do if you lost another close friend to Mond’s vampire hunts.
He’s warm.
No longer does it burn, but instead it has fizzled out into embers. Warming your body, starting from the bite all the way down to the tips of your toes. You sigh contentedly and resume carding your fingers through Diluc’s hair.
He’s warm.
Too warm. You need something to ground yourself.
The alley’s wall should do nicely. You pull towards it. The tight grip Diluc has on you prevents you from walking but by shifting your weight backwards you make him stumble half a step. Keeping his head in place with the hand that’s carding through his hair you lean your back against the wall.
It’s nice and cool.
Soothing your now feverish body. Giving your mind back some clarity.
Enough to notice the approaching footsteps and the lantern shining into the alleyway.
Your reputation is already in shambles and you’ve never much cared for it anyway. Diluc, however, still has a reputation to loose, and possibly his life should any vampire hunters catch wind of his condition.
You shift your arm in such a way that your shawl covers his most noticeable feature.
With his fiery red locks now hidden you wait to see what will happen.
You have an idea of how to get rid of whoever this is, but it’s quite embarrassing.
The person moves into the alley, light catches on the insignia of their coat. The Ordo Favonious, how ironic. Where were they when you needed them.
Diluc either doesn’t care or doesn’t hear anything, too engrossed in what he’s currently doing. Seems like you’ll have to handle this.
“Hello?” They call out. You give no answer.
“Who goes there.” They continue, the lantern’s light sweeping over the alley. It illuminates your figure and the owner of the lantern pauses.
With the light now directly shining on you you cradle Diluc’s head even closer. Footsteps ring through the vennel once more as the light draws closer.
You’re pretty sure your cheeks are blazing red right now as you release a loud, drawn out moan.
Lantern and footsteps freeze in their approach, even Diluc goes rigid against you.
“Sorry!” The favonian patrol shouts before turning and walking briskly from the alley. All you manage to catch of them is a glimpse of brown hair and a glint of red.
You sigh in relief letting your arms fall to your sides and slumping forward like a puppet whose strings were cut. All adrenaline and remaining energy suddenly sapped from your body.
Diluc staggers, having to compensate for the shift in position.
Without your embrace keeping him there his head lifts from your collarbone. His lips are stained red. You find it suits him quite well.
“Are you alright?” He turns you in his grasp so you’re laying sideways in his arms.
You in turn blink up at him blearily, unfocused eyes trying to find his. “Tired” You garble “Embarrassed… sorry.” Words are failing you. Your tongue feels like lead in your mouth.
Diluc looks at you his gaze dipping briefly to the slope of your bosom where you feel a drop of blood making its way to your bodice. Staining your shift a bright red. The hand on your shoulder tightened. “I’m bringing you back to the orphanage.” He says tersely.
You sure hoped he would, you were in no condition to walk.
In one smooth motion Diluc has swept you off your feet and into his arms.
Dizzy from the sudden and quick change you lay your head on his chest. Everything is spinning, not in the fun kind of way but more in the 'I’ll throw up soon' kind of way.
“Dizzy.” You manage very eloquently.
Blinking up at him through bleary eyes the preternatural glow of his own betrays a faint flush on his cheeks as he bows his head to look down at you.
Perhaps it’s just the light or your sluggish mind playing tricks on you.
Your head lolls against his chest as he starts moving at a brisk pace, your skirts swishing from the movements. There is no heartbeat to listen to yet you feel utterly comforted and safe in the Ragnvinder’s arms.
Strange how these things go.
A couple years ago you were thrown out of your home for refusing to marry. Vowing that no man should ever hold your heart, as they brought nothing but misery.
And yet here you were.
Giving your heart away to the vampire who cradled you so gently in his arms. The vampire whose own heart rested silently in his chest.
Who had endured many a hardship but persevered through all of them.
Who despite his shell, hardened by his experiences in life, retained the most gentle soul you had ever seen.
The vampire who had no idea he held your heart.
Funny how the fates weave your string of destiny into their tapestry.
You remember the redheads brother and how he once imparted great wisdom upon you. “Diluc’s as dense as a brick! You gotta throw it in his face for him to realise.”
Words you were only now realising rang painfully true. Perhaps tonight would be the night you finally confess, if you manage to stay conscious long enough that is.
But that is clearly a loosing battle as Diluc’s body warmth lulls you to sleep before you even reach the orphanage.
When next you wake the sun has already risen.
The only proof that yesterday was not a figment of your imagination, a small scarlet stain on your shift and faint marks on your skin the shape of twin pinpricks.
On your vanity rests a deep red rose. The same colour that had stained Diluc’s lips yesterday.